Right On Time
by Aislinn Haligh
Summary: It's been four years since Voldemort's defeat. Two people will find eachother when they believed it was too late. HHr... first fanfic


Make a Sound 

Shattered

Pain… it sometimes was too much. Bearing down on the soul, a weight that could not be lifted. Everything swept from the mind, except for the searing feeling of every emotion laying a new scar upon the memory. Just like the one that adorned his forehead, these scars could never be rid of.

Harry Potter. A name that to those in the every day world would pass over, was in torment. The memories were too hard to deal with. Haunting every minute of every day, creating a shell of what use to be a human being.

Silently he lay upon the crumpled sheets, as the moonlight spilled across the room casting ghastly shadows upon the floor. Every creak caused the man to jump. Slowly he would realize it was the squeaky floorboard in the hall, and shut his eyes once again, trying to block out the darkness.

At twenty-one years of age, Harry had more happen to him than one could write in a fantasy novel. Four years had passed from that fateful day, the day that the whole wizarding world held in glory, but he placed in loathing.

Four years was an eternity. The time seemed to stretch onward, as if there was no day and no night… only blankness. At least that was how it was for Harry now. Every day was just like the last, every day was a new reason to be angry. Every day was a day they would miss.

They…Harry could recite all their names without looking at the memorial that was placed in the Ministry Building. Hagrid…Ginny Weasley…Neville Longbottom every witch, wizard, and child that was a casualty. Though these names hit hardest, it was the names of the people he did not know that drove him wild with anger. There was one name on the list that propelled his insanity… John Granger.

The war did not just limit itself to the wizarding world; it spread into the muggle world like a disease. Harry had never forgiven himself for what happened to her family. Hermione kept reassuring him that it was not his fault.

"_She always says it's never my fault. It ALWAYS bloody is! Why can't she see that? If I…"_

Harry could not finish the thought, for his logical side always reminded him that Hermione was muggle born, and her parents would still have been a target.

The deaths were not the only things that plagued his downward spiral.

"Wasn't Ginny enough? Couldn't they have left Ron alone? If only it was me… if only…" 

That was his mantra every night. It had been 3 years since Harry had seen Ronald Weasley. Hermione begged him day after day, just to say hello or stay with him for a few minutes, but just seeing Ron made Harry's heart break a little more. How could he say hello and not hear Ron say it back? What good was it if Ron did not even recognize him anymore?

These thoughts kept plaguing Harry as he tried to get some semblance of rest. With a bestial scream he sat up. Tearing the sheets away from his body he went towards the window. The anger, the guilt, and the shame… every ounce of pain was too much now. Items were thrown, a mirror cracked, a lamp broken in to pieces on the floor. Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was just as shattered as it.

Like all stages, the anger slowly passes. His chest heaving as he gasps for breath. Finally it cracks and he falls to his knees. Crawling towards the shadows, he takes refuge, becoming that eleven-year-old boy once again. Pulling his knees to his chest, he weeps.

The bitterness of the tears fall from the emerald pools and falls upon his lips, leaving their salty taste. Shuddering with every gasping cry, he places his head in is hands. The pieces of him collecting on the floor.

Infinite, the amount of times she wanted to knock on the door. Infinite was the number of times she wished that she could hold him until his tears subsided. Infinite… the times she was angry with him for still blaming himself.

Her anger transcended beyond Harry. Past the dimensions of this world into the beyond. Wherever that soul less dark being was, that is where her anger resided. Voldemort.

Clutching the cold sheet to her chest, she cried with him. The words for and with blended. She sobbed for the pain he was in, and wept that she was just as tortured as he was. Looking into those clouded eyes day after day tortured her soul. Everything that was once bright and happy had turned to ash and despair.

Usually she kept quiet in her melancholy nights, letting the sound of his sobbing leak through the wall. Falling asleep to his biter lullaby was the ritual night after night. Tonight she could not take it anymore. The anger boiled inside of her, causing her temper to flare.

"Haven't you tormented him enough!" she shouted to no one and every one just the same. Her hand went to her lips; not believing the words had passed them. In a hurry she grabbed her coat from the chair by her window. Silence blanketed the flat. The knowledge that he had heard her was too much. Swiftly she left the sanctuary of their apartment, slamming the front door on the way out. Tears silently falling down her gaunt cheeks.

The chilled autumn wind bit at her exposed flesh as she pulled the coat tightly around her. An abandoned street greeted her with its shadowy embrace. She had to leave the wailing walls, escape for only a few moments.

The clock tower struck three.

Yelling and then a slamming door broke Harry out of his routine. Wiping his eyes and face with his arm, he crept towards his window, hiding in the darkness and looking out into the lit street.

Hermione was not the one who was supposed to scream out. She was the one to ignore that anything happened. One this outbursts he always forgot that she was there. He was the one that was supposed to leave and not return until sunlight only to find whatever destruction he had caused repaired. This time it seemed he would have to repair everything. But how could he fix things when he was also broken?

Emerald eyes watched as her form faded into the darkness. He cursed himself for letting this happen, for not being in control. Was he not always to be in control? Everything was so chaotic. The only constant in his life had just walked out the door.

Harry would not have blamed Hermione if she never came back. Who would want to? Four long years she stayed with him, day in and day out. When he was angry it was her he yelled at, when he was crying she was there to hold him, and when he just needed to be with someone, she was there. When he thought no one else could pick up the pieces, she would always repair everything broken. He knew she heard him every night, at least on some subconscious level, yet he never thought that this would happen.

Walking from his room, he made is way into the small living area taking seat upon the worn sofa. Staring at the door, he waited hoping that at any moment she would walk back through it, and back into his life.

An hour went swiftly by with no sign. He was not going to give up. She was the only thing left that he had hoped in. Yet, even Harry Potter cannot defeat sleep, and slowly he fell into an unconscious state with the vision of her walking through the door being the last coherent thought in his mind.

Five chimes of a bell rang as the sun slowly began to creep over the horizon. The door slowly creaked open, and Hermione silently slipped into the flat. A pang of guilt hit her as she saw the picture in front of her. Walking quietly over to Harry, she grabbed the blanket the hung over the couch and covered his sleeping form.

She stood for a few moments. Watching as his chest softly rose and fell with each breath. He looked so much like the young boy she first met, so innocent and naïve. Of all the things she wanted at that moment, she wanted his dreams to be pleasant, just this one time.

Making her way down the hall she stopped at his bedroom. Taking a look inside she saw the mess that was there. Like every other time she made her way into the room. Sitting upon the disheveled bed she sighed as she took in the surroundings. Retrieving her wand from the coat pocket she began the process of cleaning up Harry's damage once again.

"_If only fixing Harry was as easy as fixing a few broken items," _she thought.

Reaching down to look at the shards of the mirror strewn across the floor, she let out a tiny yelp as her finger was cut by its sharpness. A droplet of blood slowly floated down her finger onto her palm.

"_This is what it is like to feel again."_

Staring at her hand in wonder, she did not notice the eyes that were upon her.

A white handkerchief was placed upon the wound with a masculine hand holding her small one as the pure fabric began to stain red. She turned slightly, only to be met with concerned green eyes staring back at her.

"Let me get a bandage." The words were simple and direct.

"No. I'll be fine, let me just fix this and you can go to sleep."

"Leave it. It's not worth fixing when it will only be broken again. It's not worth your time."

"Are we talking about the mirror or you, Harry?" It came out harsher than she intended. Inwardly she chastised herself for sounding so cold. How selfish could she be to forget that Harry was the one that needed her care, not the other way around.

Slowly he dropped her hand, making his way over to the window, only to stare aimlessly out of it. "What happened tonight Hermione? Where did you go?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Her response came out short as she repaired the mirror and made her way towards the door.

"Maybe I do!" He shouted it at the window, as if it were easier to yell at the pane of glass instead of her. "We never talk about anything anymore Hermione. When something happens we pretend like it never occurred at all." His gaze remained on the cold scene below. The reflection of her in the window was almost too much for him. "We can't keep pretending Hermione, we can't keep hiding."

"You seem to be the master of both Harry!"

It was like a knife being stabbed into his heart. If he thought earlier that he could be anymore broken, he was proven wrong now. A clenched fist rose into the air, and then slowly made its descent as he placed his palm against the wall for support.

Crying, she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He never could watch her cry, and she could never see him hurt. Tentatively she made her way to him, placing a small hand on his shoulder. He flinched from the touch, however soon relaxed into the contact.

"I'm sorry Harry… I'm so sorry." Retreating her hand, she made her way towards the door, only to be stopped by his grip upon her arm.

"Please don't go. Don't leave me." The look in his eyes pleaded for her to accept this, to stay with him. She thought he only meant this night. Her eyes followed him as he sat upon the bed. Gently she made her way over to sit next to him, and embraced him slowly. He cried into her shoulder.

"I'm here." Cooing the words to him as though he were a child that had awoken from a horrible nightmare, she propped herself up against some pillows as he rested his head upon her chest. The sobs subsided, and soon both were asleep in the land of dreams.

The clock in the hall rang six times. They were right on schedule.


End file.
